Bullying
by Guinevere81
Summary: James is being bullied at work. This was supposed to be a one shot which sort of grew on me and developed beyond its intended scope. Hence I'm publishing it as short chapters to see if I get some feedback which might make me find a resolution to it.
1. Chapter 1

James doesn't mind when Robbie calls him clever-clogs or smartarse, he doesn't mind when innocent teasingly calls him the boy wonder because he knows they don't mean any harm. It usually sounds like they mean quite the opposite. There is something affectionate in the way that they say it, a twinkle in their eyes and a smile that suggests acceptance, maybe even friendship.

When Hooper does it the feeling that gathers in James' chest is very different. He hadn't minded so much the first few times but it's the disgust in Hooper's tone that makes James hand tremble slightly and a lump gather in his stomach.

It's unpleasant, uncomfortable to start with, but bearable, as long as it was just Hooper. But Hooper had friends and the snickers grew more frequent. He isn't even surprised when the practical jokes start.

Turning up one morning to find his chair seat had been drenched with water and ending up looking like he had wet himself for the better part of the morning had been bad enough but things quickly escalated. Someone swaps one of his CD's for one with a virus on and ends up wiping his entire laptop clean losing him days if not weeks of work, both actual work and private material he had been storing on the hard drive.


	2. Chapter 2

One day James picks his lunch up from the fridge and biting into his sandwich he finds it crawling with worms.

That is when Lewis first picks up on something being wrong. James spits his lunch out into its plastic container and bolts, green faced, from the room. Before following him Robbie quickly glances into the lunch box and sees the squirming mess of partially dismembered worms. It's almost enough to make him gag. He's not surprised therefore when he finds James in the bathroom, pale and shaky, rinsing his mouth out enthusiastically.

'Are you alright lad?' Robbie asks, placing a hesitant hand on James' back.

'Mm, fine.' James mumbles but he doesn't sound fine at all.

'That was nasty. Who did that to you? Do you know?' Robbie asked

James shook his head. He had his suspicions but making an actual accusation required proof and he had none.

'You take your time, I'll go pick you up a new sandwich.' Robbie offered, giving James' shoulder a quick squeeze.

'No sandwich sir. I can't' James shudders and Robbie nods sympathetically

'Some chips then?' he suggests. He knows James is partial to chips and the slight smile that creeps onto the young man's face is confirmation enough that he has said the right thing.

'Salt and lots of Sarson's vinegar.' James nods and Robbie could have sworn he could actually see colour return to his cheeks.

When Robbie returns with the chips James is sat at his desk typing away at something or other, looking decidedly more healthy. The box with the worm filled sandwich had disappeared and James gratefully accepts the Styrofoam container of chips with a heartfelt 'Thank you, sir.'


	3. Chapter 3

It takes a while after the sandwich incident before Lewis once again becomes aware that something is amiss. He doesn't notice the e-mails which drop into James' inbox at regular intervals to tell him that he's a show off, a sad toff, an overrated snob and any number of other unimaginative insults.

He doesn't notice when someone slashes the tyres of James' car because James elects not to tell him why his car is in the garage.

He doesn't realise that the reason why James isn't at the drinks reception for the two new sergeants joining the department is because his name has been left off the invite list. He merely assumes James had something better to do.

What he does notice is when in the middle of a conversation James upon opening his desk drawer screams and leaps back sending his chair skittering. In an instant Robbie is on his feet and across the office at his partner's side. The reason for James' reaction is instantly clear. Several large house spiders are crawling out of the drawer.

One spider might have been an accident, even at a stretch two, but the six large arachnids in James' desk drawer are certainly not accidental.

'It'll probably rain tomorrow but this has to be done.' Robbie says in a calm voice before unceremoniously squashing the spiders one at a time.

'Thank you.' James whispers before slumping to the floor, head between his knees.

'Woa, easy there lad' Robbie crouched down beside James who had started to tremble visibly. He tries to hide his shaking hands by shoving his fingers into the short strands of hair at the top of his head tugging slightly.

'Hey, pulling your hair out at the roots isn't going to make them stop.' He places a hand on James' shoulder and squeezes lightly.

James goes still, seemingly managing to stop the trembling by sheer force of will. When he looks up his eyes are shiny but determined and his voice is surprisingly steady when he asks 'Make who stop what?''

'I'm not stupid James.' Robbie chides. 'That was intentional.' He points at the drawer in James' desk. 'Just like the worms were intentional, and don't think for a second you're the only person who's noticed the increase in digs about the graduate entry program.' Robbie finds himself actually raising his voice unintentionally. He isn't really angry with James, he's angry at what is being done to him.

'It's all in jest, water off a ducks back.' James tries and Robbie isn't buying it for a second.

'If it was you wouldn't be sat on the floor with your head between your knees. They hit you where they knew it would hurt but wouldn't leave a mark. They know you wouldn't be able to prove that those weren't an accident.' He pointed at the drawer again even though the spiders had now been squashed into tissues and deposited in the bin.

'Is that a metaphor sir?' James asked with a sly grin. He was no longer looking quite so pale and it was obvious that he was recovering and in so doing was shutting down all discussion of the subject.

'You should talk to innocent about it.' He suggests with a final nod before getting up from the floor with a groan. He extends a hand to James who takes it and much more smoothly gets to his feet.


	4. Chapter 4

After the incident with the spiders Robbie starts to pay more attention to the gossip and snide remarks of the break room. He's never been one to listen to idle gossip but he's an experienced enough copper to know that the kind of sly attacks James seems to be suffering do not spring out of a vacuum. He's not quite sure, however, if it is a case of simple schoolyard bullying or someone systematically trying to torture his Sergeant. Once he's spent more than a few fleeting moments considering it he realises that there isn't really much of a difference between the two, not aside from the level of maturity of the perpetrator. Not that anyone who acts like that can be considered mature.

He's not particularly surprised therefore when he keeps hearing James name whispered from behind coffee mugs. Usually it is connected to phrases such as pathetic show-off or barely closeted fag or simply snob or posh git. A few times Robbie tries to engage. He'll ask them to please repeat themselves or ask them what the hell they think they're saying. Invariably he will get a mumbled 'nothing sir' or a blatant lie… 'just discussing a suspect.' And he hates it, hates it even more when leaving the room he can hear their titters.

James can tell instantly when Robbie starts to defend him. Not because things get better but because they get infinitely worse.

There has always been hints and suggestions regarding his devotion to his Governor. Originally they had been more of the 'poor chap has daddy issues' and 'sad mongrel looking for acceptance' variety. After Will and Zoe and the whole debacle with 'the Garden' however things had got trickier as he had desperately tried to neutralise the fallout of that case and what it suggested about him.

It wasn't that he minded being called gay specifically, he just minded anyone discussing and speculating about his sexuality in any way shape or form. He didn't do sex, he didn't do love and if he didn't feel a need to speculate about why then he didn't think anyone else had a right to either.

All of that had been so infinitely much easier before, when he had not done kindness and caring either. Not that he was unkind or cruel, he was courteous beyond measure and always respectful and polite but he never let people in. That is he hadn't been letting people in before Robbie. Robbie who had shown himself like an open book the first time they met, turning up in that silly shirt and making James drive him to his wife's grave first thing off the flight. Robbie had been an open book, but James liked books, particularly ones which while easily read could always surprise him.

No surprise then that he liked Robbie, and with liking came caring. Caring and liking were all too closely related to wanting and loving for there not to be speculation when spoken of in relation to the male equivalent of the office ice queen.

There was a fine line, however, between speculation and gossip, yet another line between gossip and taunting and they had now reached the point where taunting was turning into cruelty.

The condoms he found tucked in his post box could possibly be taken in good humour. The dildo with Robbie written in permanent marker along the shaft was more crude but since it was delivered to his home and not in the office he could pretend it had never arrived.


	5. Chapter 5

It was the cartoons that tipped him over the edge. The first was a striking caricature of himself dressed in a long gown with a halo over his head. He was kneeling, head bent and hands held out before him in prayer. Before him an altar upon which sat Lewis, much less of a caricature, more just a stylised portrait. He found it taped to the screen of his computer when he arrived in the morning.

It made James blush and his chest constrict painfully. He wasn't sure if what he felt was anger, embarrassment, frustration or just pain. Regardless, he hated it, hated the idea that this was how people viewed him, that this might be how his boss viewed him. Heedless of the fact that said man was supposed to turn up at the office any minute James stormed out. He bought two double espresso's and smoked four cigarettes before buzzing with caffeine and nicotine he returned to the office.

When Lewis scolded him for being late he snapped at him blaming traffic and reminding Lewis of the fact that he is almost always first in the office. For a second he thinks they are going to argue. It would be preferable to James' initial instinct, which had been to lower his gaze and politely apologise. That would have been far too close to replicating the cartoon from that morning.

Instead of snapping back Robbie frowns. James is looking a little manic, his hands are trembling and he seems skittish. He's probably just high on nicotine, the scent coming off the lad is rather like an ashtray at the moment. It's more the cause of the nicotine binge that is worrying Robbie than the physical symptoms of it. Something must have happened, and so he drops the issue, doesn't reprimand James for his cheek and drops the issue of his late arrival.

Where once James had been thrilled to head off to work, now every morning fills him with dread as he drags himself out of bed and reluctantly takes his car to the office. Days when they get to spend most of the day out of the office, hunting down suspects and interviewing witnesses are a reprieve of sorts. Lewis still treats him the same even if a slight tint of concern will appear in his eyes from time to time. James tries to hide the fact that he's smoking way more than before and that he seems to unintentionally be shedding weight at a frustrating rate. He wears layers to try to bulk up but he knows he won't be able to keep it up indefinitely. He needs to eat more but eating in the office is completely out and all the smoking is killing his appetite anyway and half the time he seems to be walking around with an uncomfortable lump in his stomach that just makes trying to eat seem like a really unappealing idea.


	6. Chapter 6

When the second cartoon tips him over the edge James hasn't eaten anything other than coffee and a slice of toast for 36 hours and his hands are already trembling when he reaches out for the envelope wedged behind his keyboard. He hesitates to open it. He's not alone in the office and he suspects that the contents of the innocent looking envelope will be unpleasant. The lack of any writing on it sets off warning bells in the back of his exhausted and nutrition deprived mind. He wonders sluggishly whether he will be able to not react to whatever is in it but he'll be damned if he is going to walk around all day and worry about it.

Slipping the envelope into his pocket he heads for the gents, promising Lewis that he will be right back. When he gets into a stall he locks himself in and with trembling hands open the envelope and take out the piece of cardboard inside. It's the size of a regular postcard and on it is another cartoon.

The skinny young man on his knees with an older man's cock in his mouth is clearly supposed to be James and for a second he assumes that the man he is servicing must be supposed to be his boss. The heading in bold letters at the top of the card which reads 'Sleeping your way to the top…' seems to fit the bill. Heart hammering and eyes watering he slams the picture down on the floor face down and sees that there is a picture on the back as well '20 years later the act is getting old…' the heading reads and the picture below is of James bent over his desk evidently being thoroughly buggered by his boss.

20 years later? James goes cold. He's already starting to hyperventilate when he turns the card over to confirm that what he had first thought was a desk behind the two men in the picture is in fact a grand piano, and of course the suit the younger of the two are wearing is not a proper suit at all, with its stripy tie it's clearly supposed to be a school uniform. Tears are flowing freely down his face as he falls to his knees heaving into the toilet. There is nothing in his stomach but bile and his throat burns with the sting of it. They know, how the hell do they know. He wants to kill Paul Hopkiss, he wants to kill himself for ever admitting he lived at Crevecoeur hall.

His heart is pounding, his breathing is all over the place and he has never felt so cold in his life. If it was not so painful he would laugh as his intellectual brain tells him that he's clearly having a panic attack. It's never happened before but unless he's actually dying it's the only explanation. God he thinks he might prefer if he was actually dying.

He has to get out of there. He'll tell Lewis he's not feeling well, blame a stomach bug. He'll figure it out at home. He'll have to resign won't he? Find another job, go somewhere else? Emigrate? But that would mean losing Lewis, ending up alone again. He'd rather die, and isn't that a though. He could take the Will McEwan way out, blow his brains out, never have to hurt like this again.

Heart still pounding in his ears he somehow manages to slow down his breathing somewhat and on unsteady legs he stumbles out of the stall washes his face and stares in the mirror. He's a wreck and he knows his boss will be able to see it. He'll wonder, but he can't force James to tell him what's wrong. James puts the card in his pocket, he'll dispose of it later. For right now he just has to get the hell out of this building.


	7. Chapter 7

Formulating a suitably facetious excuse for his boss about not feeling well and has he been putting arsenic in his coffee or is it really the prawns this time, and would it be alright if he went home for the day? James heads for their office on legs that barely hold him up. Halfway there he meets PCs Hooper and Martell and he knows as soon as they spot him that they know of and have seen the card. They snicker and whisper something to each other and James tries not to react. He stiffens his back and tries to act like he hasn't a care in the world. He tries to paste a solid mask onto his face but spots dance before his eyes and he has to stop and steady himself against a chair.

'You alright sir, is the sight of so much manliness making your knees weak?' Martell asks with a wink and then, crossing yet another line he rests a hand on James' shoulder in mock comfort and places the other behind him. The hand lands at the small of his back but instantly it slides down fingers caressing James bum, the thumb just pressing lightly against the crack between James' cheeks and the fear and shame that rushes through James is entirely familiar and completely overwhelming.

He wants to scream but all that comes out is a weak sob and a steady stream of fresh tears as he stumbles away from the two PCs. The world is swimming in and out of focus. James is totally mortified when he feels his legs grow warm and smells the tinge of ammonia that is so characteristic of human urine. He sobs desperately and then his knees give way and he topples forward landing heavily on his elbow which breaks his fall before his head impacts the floor. Even so the world goes briefly black and silent and he thinks he's going to pass out.

He doesn't. He's still keenly aware of the immense pressure in his chest and a distant buzzing of worried voices somewhere seemingly far away. He's cold and frightened and in pain and if this isn't dying he doesn't know what is. He tries to throw up again, his stomach revolting but it results in nothing more than a thin trickle of bile dribbling out of the corner of his mouth.

Suddenly something soft and warm lands on him. It isn't just warm because it adds extra layers but it carries bodily warmth from another human being. Half of that warmth is not physical but related to the soft smell of the silky fabric.

It smells of detergent and a familiar cheap male cologne but also more faintly of sweat, coffee and something else that James can't define. It has the same effect that his familiar teddy bear used to have on him as a child and he clutches it desperately to his chest, crumpling it to him and breathing in the scent as his heart gradually beats a little slower.

The world around him is coming more into focus again. He's suddenly keenly aware of a warm hand rubbing circles on the back of his neck and even before he blinks his eyes open to see Lewis' frightened eyes looking back at him he has registered that the comforting smell is that of his boss. It will take somewhat longer to register that the origin of the smell was originally having Lewis' jacket placed over him, which he is now desperately clutching to his chest, and then having his head cushioned in his boss' lap.

The comfort of it is in equal measures mortifying and liberating. While he feels gradually less like he's dying he also becomes increasingly aware of just how horrifyingly embarrassing this situation is. He may no longer feel like he's dying but part of him honestly wishes he was dead. That however is not the part that is resting his head in his boss' lap having his hair gently stroked by a strong calloused hand.

'That's it, just breathe, come back to me pet.' The voice above him urges and James lets out a weak pained whimper as he reluctantly pushes himself into a half sitting position so he can look his boss in the eyes properly.

He's still trembling, he's terribly weak and his right arm isn't working the way it should but he manages to raise himself a few inches above the ground with a weak groan.

'Easy, easy, here, let me help.' The steady voice of Robbie Lewis promises as the hand brushing his hair comes down to steady his shoulders and carefully lifts him into a semi upright position.

The world tilts frighteningly and James wines softly as he feels his stomach revolt again. Yet the sensation is less overwhelming this time and careful hands pull him into a half upright embrace resting back against his boss' strong chest.

He should be mortified, what with the cartoons and the wetting himself and everyone knowing but after the past few minutes of being sure he was going to die… hell after the past few months honestly wishing he would die because clearly everyone wanted him dead anyway… the loving, gentle touch of someone wishing him no ill will is too wonderful to relinquish.

Ten minutes after his original collapse the ambulance arrives and they are surprisingly understanding. They inject him with something that makes him feel like he is floating about an inch above himself and which effectively stops the sobbing and the tears and makes his eyelids heavy. They let him keep his desperate hold of the jacket he is clutching like a lifeline and while they lift him onto a stretcher, essentially removing him from Lewis' lap they instruct the older man to maintain body contact.

James misses the support of the strong chest behind his back but a warm hand wraps around his trembling one and another comes up to cup his cheek, brushing away his tears and while he is exhausted beyond belief he's less frightened now and something in him has registered that he isn't really ten years old, he's not helpless and he's not alone.

Halfway to the hospital James hand goes slack in Robbie's grasp and he almost panics before the medics assure him that James is simply asleep. The past half an hour has been like an emotional roller coaster.


	8. Chapter 8

Robbie had felt slight concern when he saw his sergeant leave the office with stiff posture, attempting to hide the envelope that had sat at his desk when they returned from their interview. Well aware that the young man had recently been exposed to some less than salacious practical jokes he wondered as he saw him leave if it had been better if Robbie had himself checked the contents of the blank envelope.

Twenty minutes later when he is already beginning to wonder if he should head off to look for James a panicked looking secretary pops her head into his office and exclaims in a frightened voice that 'he is needed because Hathaway has sort of collapsed... '

Robbie has no idea what to expect when he bursts from the office in search of his sergeant but what he finds is more terrifying than anything he might have imagined. James is curled up on the floor in the foetal position. He's sobbing with tears streaming down his face despite the fact that he has his eyes squeezed shut. Whether he is trembling from cold or fear is hard to tell but as Robbie yells to all and sundry to ask if they have called an ambulance, which apparently they have, he shrugs out of his jacket and with infinite care places it over the trembling shape on the floor. Why has no one done this already when the poor lad is so clearly shivering?

James whimpers and brings a shaking hand up to clutch at the edge of the jacket. He covers his face with the fabric and takes a shuddering breath which seems to relax him somewhat. Robbie is not oblivious to the snide remarks passed among the audience which is viewing him trying to take care of James but he files it away for later. Somehow he manages to put up blinkers that filter out all words in the region of 'pathetic, weak, queer, childish' and the like.

He knows that given time he will explode, he will demand retribution and hang them all out to dry but right now none of that matters. It doesn't matter because Jim doesn't stop sobbing as Robbie carefully lifts him onto his lap, he cries harder and clutching Robbie's jacket as though it was a comfort blanket he curls up against Robbie's chest.

James' hair is soft under Robbie's measured touch and slowly it calms the older man's racing heart. It's still beating too fast but now it's with a worry of what on earth is going on and how Hathaway will deal with it, not a fear that he may lose him altogether. Because for a moment there, when he had exited his office and seen James curled up on the floor, face ashen and body shaking and expelling bodily fluids, he had thought seizure, heart attack, dying… where a now calmer more measured reaction was saying that while those were all possible… a panic attack or acute stress reaction, even he had learnt not to call it shock these days, was much more likely given the tears and the trembling.

The paramedics arrive and while they take James away from him they allow Robbie to keep a strong hold of James' left hand. They gently cut the sleeve off both jacket and shirt on the right side after discovering that James can't move his fingers. Seemingly simultaneously they check his oxygen saturation which is settling, his blood pressure which is still way to high and his blood glucose which is low enough to make one of the medics hurriedly mix something up and inject it in the IV which had been affixed to James' arm.

'He'll be alright, we'll just take him along to have him checked out.' One of the medics promises and while it explains nothing it is somewhat calming.

Robbie thinks the hours spent in A&E are probably more stressful for him than they are for James who is mostly asleep. Asleep might be a generous term for it when really he is clearly sedated but regardless he is dead to the world and the doctors assure him that it is the healing kind of oblivion, not the kind that indicates serious brain injury.

Once the bruise starts to appear of James' temple the doctors grow more concerned and cart him off to have his head scanned before he has even had time to have his damaged arm x-rayed. Apparently the results are good unlike the eventual x-rays which make the doctor frown and declare that James will need pins.

Apparently the combination of sedation and expectant surgery, compounded with the mild concussion means they are keeping James around and he's stuck into a room which Robbie can't quite decide if it is meant to be a ward room or an A&E cubicle. Still it is more or less private and quiet apart from the soft sounds from the monitors keeping an eye on James' vital statistics.

It's half eleven at night when a nurse finally tells Robbie that he's not allowed to stay the night and needs to go home and get some rest. James is expected to be more alert in the morning, at least after his surgery which is scheduled for nine o'clock. He's advised to come back in twelve hours and grudgingly agrees.


	9. Chapter 9

Getting outside Robbie turns his phone on and realises he has eight missed calls from Innocent. He calls back intending to leave a message but is surprised to find that she has her work phone on even though it is nearly midnight.

'How is he?' She promptly demands and Robbie takes a shuddering breath, trying to think and summarise past his own worry.

'He's okay. They're saying it was some sort of panic attack. He fractured his elbow in the fall and got a mild concussion hitting his head on the floor but it seems neither is very serious. They're putting pins in his elbow tomorrow morning and then he'll be sent home.

'Thank God.' Innocent breathes a sigh of relief and Robbie can't help but feel that it is somewhat premature.

'I'm sorry mam, but I have something to report, I should have done it weeks ago, months ago, oh god I should have reported the very first time I heard a comment.' His voice breaks and his breath hitches as past instances come rushing back to him. Laughing in the break room when someone, he thinks it might have been Hooper joked about 'the annoying brains trust', teasing James for being smart when really he knew it was jealousy speaking… And Crevecoeur, why had he not forced James to get counselling? Fair enough that he didn't believe in the benefits of the shrinks but that didn't excuse that he had turned a blind eye to the fact that James had been forced to sit in his own former living room interviewing a musical prodigy when Robbie was well aware that James had more than cursory talents in that apartment. And things had only got worse from there… That business with the girl, Scarlet and then James had been shot and in retrospect Robbie couldn't believe that he had allowed the lad to refuse hospital treatment.

'Robbie, Robbie breath, where are you. I'm coming to get you.' He heard faintly from very far away and he found himself sitting on the tarmac next to his car leaning heavily against the fender.

'A&E car park. God Jean what have I done?' He groaned and buried his face in his knees.

Despite calm middle of night traffic it takes Jean Innocent more than twenty minutes to drive to the A&E car park. Once there however she has no trouble locating Robbie who has got up to sit in the driver's seat but without even attempting to drive away. In semi silence she tucks him into her own car, calls a PC to come pick up Lewis' car keys and take care of his abandoned car and then drives to Robbie's flat where she hesitates between handing him a whiskey or a cup of tea. Only her biased desire to get a clear account of what the hell is going on settles her for the latter.

Tea brewed she pushes an exhausted Robbie Lewis onto the sofa and sits down next to him.

'Ok Robbie tell me what happened.' She orders calmly and Robbie hesitates before getting up and getting the card he had taken out of James' soiled trousers. He hesitantly hands it over to his boss.

Jean Innocent stares at the card in her hand. It is hand drawn , slightly stained with yellow along one edge and a little bent out of shape. She stares at the image. She has no problem identifying the young man bent over a simple desk as being Sergeant Hathaway, nor to identify the bored looking older man bent over him in a very compromising position as being Lewis. '20 years later the act is getting old…' it means nothing to her and she frowns as she puts the picture down looking up at Lewis for an explanation she feels decidedly uncomfortable asking for.

Robbie closes his eyes for a second before he takes the plunge and reaches out to turn the picture over to reveal things he feels are really James' to keep or release.

Jean looks at the picture for a few second her frown deepening.

'Mortmaigne. James lived at Crevecoeur.' Robbie explains and he watches as the implications slowly dawn on their boss.

Robbie isn't prepared to discuss that particular aspect of their current problem so he decides to skirt around it, 'It's not the first time. I know I should have said something.' He offers.

Jean looks at the card, reads the comments and processes what they might possibly mean.

'I take it this is supposed to be you?' she eventually asks, pointing to the cartoon of Robbie and James bent over a desk. Robbie nods awkwardly.

'Ok, I'm sorry but I have to ask. Is there any truth to this?' she manages to push out and Robbie goes horribly scarlet.

'No mam, of course not. I care for the lad but not like that. I would never, honestly…' Robbie trails off, not sure how to defend himself.

'Ok Robbie. I believe you but why then did you say "what have I done"?' She asked despite not really wanting to know.

'Just Crevecoeur mam. I knew something was wrong. I just didn't know what. I should have taken him off the case at the start. I should have asked about Mortmaigne and…' Robbie hesitates about how to finish that sentence.

'Robbie, if what that card says about you and him is untrue, why do you think what it implies about him and Montaigne is any more true?' Innocent asks sipping her tea.

It's a valid question and for a moment Robbie hesitates, unsure. 'Something was off with him during that case… hell he got shot and he didn't even seem to react'

'It's not really about that though.' Robbie sighs and pushes on 'They've been tormenting him for months. 'They put maggots in his sandwich and spiders in his desk and the nasty things they've been saying behind his back. I don't know how to stop it but it has to stop.'

Silence reigns for a few moments as Jean takes this all in.

'Are you telling me he is being bullied?' She finally asks in a very concerned but tired voice, it is half one in the morning after all.

'Yes, it's been going on for months I don't even know when it started. I told him he should report it to you but I should have reported it.' Robbie looks close to tears and Jeans heart goes out to him.

'Well, you're reporting it now and I think this is pretty damning evidence' She waves the card with the two cartoons on it. 'Get some rest Robbie, you can make a proper complaint tomorrow.' She gave him a supportive pat on the shoulder before getting up to leave.


End file.
